


The Exile, Part I,

by AGDoren



Series: The Exile, Part  I: Alone [1]
Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, F/F, F/M, Merlin deconstruction, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGDoren/pseuds/AGDoren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartbroken and defeated,all hands against her, Guinevere begins her journey from Camelot and into a new life. If you were dissatisfied with Gwen's banishment and want a bracelet reveal,if you want an independent Gwen, if you want back stories for the knights, for Elyan to be a real character and an exploration of he and Gwen's relationship, a more confident and mature Arthur, dynamic OCs, romance, adventure and some action you should read The Exile all of that's in there and much, much more. I'd tell you all about it, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure

Sunlight beamed down through the receding morning mist. Already the people of Camelot's capital city, former friends were going about their routines. Black smoke puffed from the chimney of the smithy, Grif the butcher drug a squealing pig into his shop, and the fragrance of fresh bread drifted through the Lowtown. On any other morning she might have treated herself to a small loaf of bread and fresh butter, waved to Grif or stopped to speak with Jeordi the head black smith. On any other morning she might have visited these friends and found herself welcome. On this morning though they must –by law- turn her out or risk sharing her banishment, all hands were against her now.  
  
              Enid whom she had often thought of as a sister merely stood in the door of her cottage watching her slow steady progress up the street. When Guinevere drew near the woman's home Enid whispered something in her daughter's ear and ducked into her home pulling her child with her. Gwen spared a glance for the wooden door shut tight against her and told herself to keep going.  
  
              It was the same with everyone she saw. No one met her eyes, no smiles encouraged her. Even Merlin with whom she had shared so much could only look upon with melancholy eyes as grey as the morning mist. Still there was one thing to be grateful for. The banishment had happened quickly and though rumors had already begun to spread there were very few people out and about. She'd seen unlucky felons detained three, four, five days before sentencing and banishment, allowing time enough for the news to saturate the populace. In those cases the unlucky outcast found the simple act of exiting the Lowtown a circus-like ordeal of  
humiliation at the hands of their former friends and countrymen. Yet another mercy Arthur had shown her.  
              Gwen halted. How had she come to the walls encircling the Lowtown so quickly? She knew she should be moving forward, but every part of her wanted turn and run back to him. To throw herself at his feet and beg –yes beg- him to forgive, not force her away from him, she'd waited so long. Perhaps the speed of her sentencing and expulsion was no mercy after all. If people had been throwing things at her, calling her adulteress and worse; passing under the white stone archway would have been a relief. As it was Gwen felt she might stand forever at that arch.  
  
              "Hullloo Gwen!"  
  
              Guinevere peered down the road from Camelot. It was one of the older roman roads wide enough for three men to walk abreast, it would make at least part of her journey easier. It was what or rather who stood beside the road that held her attention; a tall, broad shoulder figure stood waving. In her ideal world Guinevere would have avoided anyone that knew her or her shame. Merlin had not approached her so she had not approached him.  Gwaine it seemed would not be so easily avoided. She took a deep breath and left her home behind.  
   
                  "Gwaine?" She could manage no more than his name for greeting.  
  
                  "My lady Guinevere."  
  
                  "Don't call me that." She admonished him.  
  
                  "I've always called you that and I always will."  
  
                  Her only reply was to sigh and purse her lips.  
  
                  "I've come to see you off." Gwaine caught her chin with between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
                  "Thank you."  
  
                  "I'll walk with you for a-ways.  Save your strength and let me take this for a bit."  
  
                  Guinevere let him take the cart without argument.  
  
                  "Any thoughts on where you'll be going?"  
  
                  "The only place I know is Ealdor?"  
  
                  "Cenred's lands." Gwaine frowned, "There's no King there now. It could be dangerous. "  
  
                  "Merlin's mother Hunith lives there, I think if things were going badly they would have sent word."  
  
                  "More than likely you are correct, but you should have options."  
  
                  "You offer a suggestion?"  
  
                 "You could head to Caerleon. Queen Annis is a fair ruler if her husband was not, their lands are prosperous. You should be able to find work there. You could also go to Wyledon. I lived there for a time it is exciting place. It borders Caerleon and is near the sea."

  
              Guinevere nodded for her reply.  
  
              "If you do go to Wyledon find Adras of the Five Hands. She's a friend heads a little group. They make a good living, they are fair to women and you can learn a lot."  
  
              Guinevere couldn't help, but wonder what this group did.  
  
              "Take this." He handed her simple gold chain with an unfamiliar flower. "Give it to Adras. He'll know I sent you."  
  
              Guinevere took the chain. She knew enough about Gwaine's past to know that she might not want to meet with his _friends_ , but you never knew when a recommendation might come in handy.  
  
              "Now I've got a few other farewell gifts for you. This is from the staff." He handed her a leather satchel. Inside it Guinevere found a purse heavy with coppers, a meal for her lunch, the cap Enid had been knitting for her daughter -It would actually match her travel cape perfectly-,a  belt knife that Elyan had made for himself years ago and most importantly two envelopes that could only be letters of recommendation.  Guinevere felt her throat tighten and the start of tears in her eyes.  
  
              "Hey this is supposed to make you feel better."  
  
              "It is." She managed the two words somehow. "I just wasn't expecting such generosity."  
  
              "Guinevere you've got a lot of people here that love you in spite of everything. You're not the first person to make a mistake."  
  
              She sniffed and swallowed this fresh well of tears at his kind words.  
  
              "Thank you Gwaine. Tell them I won't forget this. That their kindness means more to me than anything else they could have done. Tell Elyan I love him and I hope we meet again."  
  
              "I'll tell them Guinevere. I've got to start back soon otherwise I'll be missed."  
  
              She nodded and was surprised when he pulled her into a quick rough hug.  
  
              "Be careful Gwen and write us when you are settled. We all want to know that you're safe. Even _he'll_ want to know."  
  
              She didn't say anything to that just nodded and took the handle of the cart. She had to get going if she were going to reach Longstead by nightfall.  Somehow she found her steps a little lighter now.  
   
             ****************************************  
                                            
              The road away from Camelot led into the woods and before long the palace, its walls, the hill upon which it sat, and the little town huddled next to it were all hidden from her view. Great wide tree trunks were all around her and little scrubby trees and bushes dotted the forest floor. Under normal circumstances she would have found the day a pleasant one. It was neither hot nor cold, and the sun shone sweetly through the trees, and bumble bees buzzed in and out of early spring flowers. Birds sang to each other of things only they knew, but as man had done for centuries she imagined what they might sing to one another about and the ground was easy beneath her feet.  
  
              Even with the pleasantness of the day Gwen did not make the time that she had hoped, she'd gotten soft.  Before becoming Morgana's maid she and her father had walked the 40 miles to Longstead to pay a visit to Aunt Mary and Uncle John and they'd completed the journey before sundown. She'd only made half that time today. Soon the sun would begin its nighttime descent and she needed to be off the road before then. The would-be Queen began looking for someplace to sleep. She _did not_ want to be on the road after sundown, not with the cart. She'd gotten soft and _stupid._ Gwen found a little pocket in the woods off the side of the road thick with foliage. Pleased with this she got the things she needed from it she needed and pushed the cart into the pocket, hidden thus no one would see it from the road. She wasn't afraid to sleep in the woods at night she knew enough to stay off game trails, bandit trails, and dispose of her garbage away from her camp, not sleep in animal dens, and avoid strangers. Since it was late spring she didn't bother with a fire, most animal predators were only interested in man during the winter months. Guinevere ate a cold and silent evening meal, cleaned her utensils and settled her back against the trunk of a great tree.  
She pulled her blanket snug round her shoulders and fished the ring Arthur had given her out. He'd not asked for it back and she could not bear to return it to him. She did not wear it on her fingers, but instead on a simple leather thong round her neck. Turning her gaze up to the nighttime starts she prayed quickly and quietly and tucked her head down to sleep.  
                                                           
              *************************  
   
               
  
              Guinevere rose as the first hints of false dawn began coloring the sky a fair grey. Sleep had not come easily that night and when it had there had been dreams -unbearable things- from which she forced herself awake. Dreams she refused to think of as she prepared breakfast, broke camp and got on the road with first light of true sunrise.   As the day drew on she began see other travelers and Gwen put her hood up. She could not bear to see or speak to anyone.  
  
              She drew near to Longstead just after her noon meal and made a camp about a mile from the village. The laws were very clear she could only seek shelter with the coming of night and she could not remain in any town, village or city of Camelot beyond sunrise to do so would invoke death sentence. Since she was traveling on foot she had a full twenty days to leave the borders of Camelot. It was her plan to cross into Ealdor before that limit lapsed. She'd give Arthur no reason to order her death; she'd not have that on his conscious. She looked again at the sky dotted with summer clouds. She needed something to occupy her time for the next few hours. Gwen got out her needlepoint recalling her mother's words: _"You'll never go hungry as long as you can embroider."_  She leaned her back against the trunk of a tree and began. Her plan was to embellish kerchiefs for noblemen and women especially the women to give them as tokens to their beloved.  Gwen found her fingers clumsy and awkward as she tried to work and soon she gave up on the embroidery and drifted into her first real sleep in two days.  
   
              The cottage was a simple sturdy structure of rough stone and a thatched roof. Gwen could already feel the warmth of its hearth and here she thought she might even find welcome. Still it was with some trepidation that she knocked on her Aunt and Uncle's door.  
  
              "What do you want so late in the night?" Her stomach twisted as she heard the annoyance in her Aunt's voice.  
The door was pulled open and she watched emotions play across Mary's face, annoyance first, then confusion and finally concern- grave concern. She must look like hell.  
  
              "Gwen? Come in dear girl. What could possibly be wrong?"  Mary pulled her into a tight hug and with a sigh she let herself sink into the older woman's girth. "What's happened?  John come tie up Gwen's cart. Let me get you something to eat."

  
               She let Mary take charge of her. Let the older woman fix her a bowl of stew and brown bread while her Uncle John took care of her things.

  
              "What's happened Gwen? Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
              Gwen felt an involuntary shudder at the thought of it.  
  
              "Please don't ask me to Auntie Mary. I only ask that you let me sleep here tonight?"  
  
               Mary pursed her lips and Gwen thought of her mother, it could be hard to see her Aunts.  
  
              "If you insists, but-"  
  
              "Just give me a blanket by the fire. I'll be gone at first light and if you ask me no questions and no trouble can come to you." Those words communicated all that Mary needed to know  
  
              The older woman's frown deepened and she looked as if she were going to say something, but stopped.

  
              "Are you very tired?"

  
              "Actually, no I spent much of the day asleep."  
  
             "Then John and I will sit up with you for a bit and we can tell you stories about your pa and grandmam and grandsire  there's some we haven't told you." Mary's hand closed round her own "Who knows when we shall meet again?"

  
              "Thank you Auntie."  
   
              ***********************************  
   
              When Arthur had pronounced her banishment she had not believed she would laugh again, but here she sat round a fire laughing.  
               "I wish that we could have your cousins over tonight, but only Aaron and his boys are close and they're all down with the chicken pox. Where's your brother?" Uncle John asked.  
  
              Gwen only looked at her aunt helplessly.  
  
              "Thinks 'cause he's got himself knighted he's too good to help his family." John's voice was heavy with scorn.  
  
              "Uncle John it's not like that. He has his oath-"  
  
              "-Oath be hanged he could take a few days and see his sister safe. He wouldn't have that knight's position if it weren't for you."  
  
              "Yes and then he'd be in trouble too." John and Mary exchanged a look and she realized she'd told them more than intended.  "I'm tired." Gwen yawned and they exchanged another look.  
  
             "Very well," John said it. "Goodnight my Gwennie."  
  
             She smiled at the use of her childhood nickname and accepted goodnight hugs before lying down on a pallet before the fire. Gwen did not let herself sleep as deeply as she'd planned. Her Uncle's words made one thing clear to her. He would not let her go on the road by herself and as much as she might have enjoyed his company she could not let him endanger himself or his household. Somehow she rose before dawn and dressed in silence. Still she could not leave without so much as a farewell. She wrote them a simple note apologizing and bidding them not worry for her or hate or when they learned of the shame she'd brought on her family.  
   
            *******************************  
   
 _The guardsmen's eye's scanned the cell certain he'd seen it earlier that day when they'd brought Guinevere to the King for sentencing. He hadn't had time to grab it just then, but he'd promised himself he'd come back for it. After a moment's search the guardsmen found it in the corner farthest from the door._  
  
 _It was beautiful, a gleaming silver that seemed to glow as no metal he'd seen before. He knew it was supposed to go either to the King or Guinevere's family, but he doubted the King would be interested in anything from the adulteress and she was not at all close to her brother. He studied the delicately carved metal and thought of Janet, the pretty kitchen maid he'd been courting she would love something like this._  
  
 _His plan was to propose tonight it would make the perfect gift._  
   
                                                                                                                    
                                                                                                                                                                                                                              -End Chapter 1


	2. The Exile, Part I, Chapter II: On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Guinevere continues on her travels, rumors begin to spread about King Arthur and his commoner bride, Gwen's exile just got a little harder. Characters include: Gwen,John/Mary, OC character Tilda

              Guinevere opened her eyes and felt the chill splash of rain on her face. She stuck her head outside. A steady rain – unseasonably cold - fell from the sky. She ducked her head back inside with a sigh and lay down. It had been rain much like this that had fallen on that morning when she'd woken to find Lancelot gone and herself alone with Merlin and Arthur. She bit her bottom lip in annoyance; she hated thinking about that morning. At first it had been because of Lancelot, who had sworn love to her and then abandoned her almost immediately. Later she hated thinking about it for coolness she had shown Arthur though he had no right to expect otherwise at the time. For months after that she had been especially friendly to the Prince of Camelot. Not overtly so, but enough so that he might see that she did not think so very much of Lancelot.  
  
              She watched the _splish-splash_ of the water onto her bedding for a while, a puddle was forming. Guinevere cupped her hand under the drip until she held a mouthful. One good thing about a steady rainfall was fresh water for no effort. The would-be Queen drank her mouthful and got up. She could not lie about thinking all day if she was going to escape Camelot in the prescribed period of time.  
  
              In this weather there could be no fire so she had a cold breakfast of dried fruits and meat before dressing in soggy clothing and getting on the road for the day. She had to reach Bayberry by nightfall; if for no other reason than a night indoors might allow her things to fully dry. Guinevere studied the sky as she began her day's walk.  Silver grey clouds and rain obscured the sun, but even in the grey dimness she could tell the sun was well-up. It seemed each morning that no matter what she told herself before retiring for the night that she woke later and later.  At this rate she would need more than the ten days she had initially planned. Gwen tallied her progress; she was averaging about 30 miles daily, not too bad. At this pace she'd reach her destination in 12 days. It still left her an eight day cushion in case of the unexpected.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
              Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was something else, but with the exception of two lone horsemen Gwen had the road to herself for nearly two hours of travel.  It was just past mid-morn when she heard the pound of many hooves on the road behind her. Her heart began a _tom-tom_ beat in her breast and she felt a tremble run through her body. She didn’t know who the horsemen might be, but she did not want to meet them. Quickly Guinevere turned her cart off the road and hurried into the little dip at the roadside thankful that here, at least, vegetation grew thick, dense and high, and that the road ran higher than the land about it. She forced the cart into the thicket and then dropped flat to wriggle back into the undergrowth herself. Once the shrubbery and grass enclosed her Gwen cleared the screen of vegetation before her eyes. She watched barely daring to breathe as mail-suited men in scarlet capes bearing the sign of the golden dragon rode by.  She did not see Sir Leon, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan or heaven forbid Arthur amongst them, but she recognized Sir Kay and a few others. There were certainly knights amongst this group that would recognize her too.  
  
              Guinevere may have been perfectly within her rights to use the road, but that did not mean she wanted to see anyone that knew her shame. She lay hidden in the bushes for a very long time after they passed. And as she lay hiding a new thought came to her.  
  
              The Knight's mission she could not guess, but she knew people would ask them questions. The people would ask for the news of the Kingdom. They would ask about King Arthur's wedding, about his commoner bride... Her stomach roiled and she tasted bile in the back of her throat as tears moistened her eyes. The gossip would be ahead of her now.  It would not be hard to guess who she might be. While it would not be illegal to help her or rent her a room; that did not mean anyone would. She'd have to give a false name, and she'd need a story to explain who she was, why she was on the road by herself. The trembling began anew. Her journey was about to get worse, much worse.  
  
____________________________  
  
  
              _Blue and white silk caressed her skin, flowed over legs; seed pearls gleamed with their iridescence on a web work of pale lilac embroidery. This was the last day her hair would flow freely. When she woke on the morrow she would be a woman wed. Arthur, she thought suddenly of their wedding night…There would be no more resistance of their mutual passion. Indeed their duty to Camelot required them to see their passion for one and other through to its logical conclusion time and again. Gwen felt a pleasant tightening low in her belly as she recalled Arthur's hands slipping across the material of her bodice lower and lower, but always with that fabric betwixt them. Tonight though- Fire coursed through her veins and she looked up from the embroidery of her skirt at the sound of the door opening._  
  
 _Lancelot!_  
  
 _But he was dead!_  
  
 _What was he doing here!?_  
  
 _Why was she going to him!!?_  
  
 _Putting her arms around him!!??_  
  
 _Touching his lips to hers!!!!_  
  
 _She screamed a soundless stop. Tried to make her body do something, anything: tear away from him, hit him…But she seemed to act under the will of another seemed to be watching from someplace else. Gwen looked away from the couple: saw Arthur in his wedding finery, felt the waves of heart break wash over him, wash over her._  
  
              "Girl!"  
  
              _All of hell in his eyes- they were destroying him!_  
  
              "Girl!"  
  
              _She was destroying him!_  
  
              Pain lanced through her side and Guinevere focused on it as an escape from that which she wanted no part of. She opened her eyes to a dark world awash with tears.  
  
              "Fool of a girl!"  
  
              In the flickering light of a single lantern she saw a face hard, bitter and female twisted with annoyance. Guinevere took in the dark room, the plaster wall, and the banked coals of the fireplace. She was in the inn; she'd paid for a pallet on the floor, a place to dry her rain sodden things, two hot meals: supper and breakfast.  
  
              "Yer awake at last."  
  
              "Yes." She replied, her voice husky with sleep.  
  
              "Good I've folded your things for you. Now get you gone."  
  
              "It's not sun-up yet."  
  
              "No its not and make no mistake I'll not have you here past that time."  
  
              She shrank away for a moment.  
  
              "That’s right I know who you are and if you don't get moving very soon the entire village will know it as well."  
  
              "My breakfast-"  
  
              "-Is packed and it's more than you deserve, selfish jade. Its women like you that make it hard for the rest of us. Your wash water is heated. It's your choice if you use it, but I expect you out in no more than half-an-hour."  
  
              For a long moment Gwen stared at the woman.  
  
              "Well get moving."  
  
              The would-be queen pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the sigh in her muscles. She washed with the water the woman had promised, dressed and packed her things, taking only enough time to make certain that nothing was left behind.  Outside the village Guinevere stopped to eat the breakfast the woman had packed. Stale bread, day old porridge, and boiled eggs made up her meal. The fresh bread the innkeeper had boasted of on the previous night was only beginning to bake as she was getting on the road. When she was done Guinevere probed her aching side with gentle fingers. That woman had kicked her. The easy part of her journey was indeed over.  
  
  
___________________________________  
   
   
              Mary awoke to her husband shaking her and his worried face.  
  
              "She's gone."  
  
              "What?" She glanced to the window the sun wasn't even fully risen.  
  
              "Been gone for some time now I think I ran the length of the village and went along the road for a ways no sign of her."  
  
              "Blast it."  
  
              "She left this note."  
  
              He thrust the paper in her direction and she glared at him.  
  
              "Sorry." He apologized and began reading:  
  
                    ** _Dear Aunt & Uncle,  
  
                  I am so sorry to leave without saying good-bye, but I feared that you would endanger yourselves by trying to accompany me or keep me from leaving altogether. I love you both too much to allow that. You have probably guessed that I have been banished from court and all of Camelot. I have only myself to blame for this. I cannot yet put into writing all that has happened, but I know you will learn in time.  
  
              When you do learn please forgive me for the shame I have brought upon my family. Also please do not be angry with Elyan. If you knew all that had passed you would understand his actions and he is also our family.  
  
            I am making for Ealdor and shall write to you when I am settled there.  
  
                                                                                                  Love Your Niece,  
  
                                                                                                  Gwen_**  
  
              "That child she is just like her mother!" Mary snatched the letter from her husband and studied it as if she might learn something more of her niece's fate from it.  
  
              "What d'you suppose might have happened?"  
  
              "How should I know?" She glared and saw him pull back a bit. "Sorry, I'm just so worried about her."  
  
              The older woman got out of bed.  
  
              "She's Jane's only daughter and the only one that looks anything like grandmam and she's leaving us too now."  
  
              "She seemed so happy when she was here before." John mused.  
  
              "Yes she did. She and the king seemed so in love." Mary sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "It was sweet the way the two of them were. Reminded me of you and I when we were young."  
  
              "Well then everything will be all right." John got to his feet.  
  
              "What do you mean by that?"  
  
              He gave her arms an affectionate squeeze.  
  
              "If he loves her half as much as I love you then everything will work itself out."  
  
              "That's sweet John, but it's not safe out there alone."  
  
              "I know and that's why I am going to go and look for her."  
  
              "Thank you." She smiled finally.  
  
              "Think about this though. Gwen is smart, and brave, and resourceful, and regardless of how hard things are getting for her she will be fine."  
  
              "I hope you're right."  
  
               
_______________________________  
  
  
              Gwen lit her lamp and worried over the waste of fuel. She _shouldn't_ have been trying to camp in the dark, she _should_ have selected her campsite long before now, but then she should have been sleeping on a pallet indoors.   
The young woman looked over her should in the direction of Breghed. The only person that had recognized her in Bayberry had been the innkeeper's wife. In Breghed two days later everyone seemed to have a guess about who she might be and though by law she could have stayed in the village she'd been met with glares. She'd finally approached a tall, dark-haired woman that looked less hostile than everyone else. The woman had glared, said some very unpleasant things and slammed her door. None of the other villagers looked any friendlier and Gwen had hurried through as fast as she could.  
  
              It was impossible really to look for a campsite in the dark. The waning moon was less than half full now, its light did not penetrate the forest and her little lantern only gave her a view of a few feet. What if she accidentally selected a game trail or some such? What if she fell and broke her neck?  
  
              "Guinevere." A woman's voice called to her from the darkness, "You don't know me, but I want to help you."  
  
              She looked in the speaker's direction.  
  
              "They're wrong, you know. I mean, to turn you out like this. If the King had wanted you dead he'd have ordered your execution and he didn't. So who are we to turn death into exile?"  
  
              A dark-haired woman came into view and Gwen stared in surprise.  
  
              "You-"  
  
              "-I'm sorry. My name is Tilda and I have my own reputation to consider."  
  
              Gwen recognized the woman that had called her names and slammed the door in her face.  
  
              "Come I know these woods. There's a ruined mansio not far at all, but you'd never find it if you didn't know where to look for it. "  
  
              Each of them took hold of the cart with a hand piece and held their lanterns high with the other. Tilda led her to a collapsing villa.  
  
              "It's not as nice as it was during the days of the empire, but people respect the traditions around it still and you should be safe here."  
  
             They found a stonewalled room and got a fire going while Gwen unpacked the things she'd need for the night.  
  
             "Since it's not part of the village you won't have to hurry off." When the fire was crackling merrily, Tilda handed her a parcel and turned to go.  
  
              "Wait a moment. Thank you, but why?"  
  
             "My sister was an adulteress, she suffered mightily for it."  
  
             "Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
             "Don't be." Tilda hurried off into the dark. "I'll try to come by in the morning."  
  
              Gwen unwrapped the parcel and felt her mouth water as the fragrance of roast pigeon wafted toward her.  
  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  
   
              _"I truly don't understand it all, but Leolin and I are finished."_  
  
 _"Just like that! But only three days ago he was talking about going to your father and he gave you that lovely bracelet. It can't be over Janet."_  
  
 _Janet's eyes strayed to the gleaming band of silver on her wrist.  She recalled the guilty pleasure of Neiren's arms._  
  
 _"You can have it." Janet slipped the band from her wrist and placed it in Mared's palm._


	3. The Exile, Part I, Chapter III: Break Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Difficulties mount for Guinevere as she faces unexpected challenges in her journey from Camelot.
> 
> *A/N the mansio were part of the system of Roman way-stations or hotels built along the roads to help move people and goods through the Empire. Camelot may well have been along one of those roads.

         It had rained whilst she slept. Water glistened on tree leaves, puddles dotted the crumbling halls of the mansio and birdsong filled the morning air as robins, sparrows and jays took advantage of tiny rivers formed during the night. She had explored the mansio briefly this morning. There wasn't really very much to see, most if it had crumbled through the centuries since its abandonment. The only remotely solid room was the one Tilda had brought her to.  
  
          The room located in the heart of the mansio, shielded on all sides by other crumbling rooms. The ceiling was mostly whole and again Guinevere assumed that it was the interior location that had protected it. Even the elements had worn away the ceiling and walls so that rain and sun leaked through.  
  
          Guinevere studied her map under the sun's weak watery light. She was halfway to the border and she still hadn't made a decision about Ealdor or Wyeledon. The sensible choice was Ealdor, she knew people there, and would be made very welcome. She could probably set up a very simple existence, get a cottage built do some farming. She'd lived most of her life in the city but as a child when she'd visited her Aunt and Uncle's she'd helped them with farming and chores she could do that work, live that life. Something inside of her resisted the idea of that simplicity though. She wondered about Wyeledon, a place she had never been with people she had never known. She studied the chain Sir Gwaine had given her and its strange five-petaled flower. Adras Five Hands? What kind of name was that? And what kind of friends did Gwaine have?  
  
         Guinevere traced the simple lines of the heart shaped petals and considered the things she knew about Gwaine. He was charming, a flirt, disdained nobility until proven otherwise and he could be a bit of a hot-head, but he also had his own sense of honor and decency. She couldn't imagine him doing anything cruel or truly evil. So perhaps his friends were not so bad? Arthur and Merlin were his friends. She was his friend. She heard footsteps and tucked the chain under her blouse next to the ring Arthur had given her.  
  
         "Gwen?"  
  
        She looked up and saw Tilda.  
  
          "Good morning." She gave the other woman a smile. Seeing Tilda in the daylight Gwen realized that the other woman was quite handsome. Glossy black hair framed a pretty if strong face and dark brown eyes rich with secrets measured her in return.  
  
         "I've brought you some milk and fresh bread with butter and honey."  
  
         Guinevere felt a smile overtake her face. She hadn't had milk since last spring and fresh bread was always a treat. Tilda hand her a cloth wrapped loaf and a little stone jug of creamy milk. For a moment she couldn't decide which to have first. Then she unstoppered the jug and sipped at the milk. It was heavy and slightly warm; with sweet rich bits of pulpy cream. She savored the weight and richness of it letting her tongue absorb the taste as she swallowed the cream beverage down. When it was down she smacked her lips a few times tasting all that was left in her mouth before unwrapping the bread. The oven fresh scent still clung to it. It wasn't a soft white bread as was served to royals and nobles, but instead a hearty brown with nutty flavors and rough texture like the difference betwixt linen and silk. Guinevere bit down into the bread the sweetness of honey and rich of butter making a perfect harmony with its nutty flavor. She savored this too, licking the crumbs from her fingers when she was done.  
  
         "Thank you Tilda so much." Gwen wiped her fingers on the cloth the bread had been wrapped in and Tilda only gave her a smile.  
  
        "How long will you remain?"  
  
         "Not long I have to reach Ealdor in ten days."  
  
         Tilda's lips pressed into a thin line and she thought maybe the older woman was thinking.  
  
        "You'll continue on the Southern road?"  
  
        "Yes."  
  
       "Have you a map?"  
  
       "Yes actually." She produced the piece of worked leather that Gwaine made his map from. Tilda studied it briefly.  
  
       "I can find the road, but not where we might be."  
  
       "I've studied a bit. I think we are perhaps here." She had managed to identify Bayberry and a couple of other landmarks. Tilda looked at the map again.  
  
        "If we're here," She placed on stubby nailed finger on the map "and south is that way then I can give you an idea of where other mansio might be."  
  
        Gwen felt her face brighten.  
  
       "They're about 30 miles apart and run the length of the road. The next one might be here and then here." Tilda pointed to two spots on the map that looked like nothing more than forest. "Hand me your knife." The older woman scored the leather in two places.  
  
        "How will I know where to look for them?"  
  
        "I'll show you."  
  
         Tilda got to her feet and Guinevere did the same. The two women walked along the halls of the mansio to its courtyard and there in the gaping hole that must have been the doorway.  
  
        "Here and here." The other woman crouched and indicated sunken moss cover stones that must have once lined either of a now overgrown path. "They go all the way to the road the markers would be difficult to spot if you don't know what to look for."  
  
        "You seem to know so much about these stations."  
  
        "My family's people came to Wales to run the stations."  
  
         "Oh."  
  
        "I must get back. If I don't see you again God bless."  
  
        "You also and thank you," Guinevere said with a smile and watched the other woman head into the forest.  
  
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         ** _Elyan sat on Guinevere's narrow bed, let his eyes travel over the furnishings of his sister's home, his family's home. Things were missing, some practical, some sentimental like the Kente cloth that had been their grandmothers, or the simple jewelry their father had made for their mother. He couldn't really be mad at Guinevere for taking those things. Elyan took note of the dust gathering on the tables and shelves. Gwen wouldn't like that. He got to his feet, picked up her broom and began sweeping the floors. When he'd done Elyan went down to the town well with a bucket. It was his day off and he was spending it working. Back at her house he added lye soap to the water and started scrubbing her floors.  
  
        He'd told himself that it was okay to be angry at her, to not put himself at risk for her. After all look at what she had done. She had played with both of their lives and stupidly so no less. She had stood to gain everything, climb as high as one could and what had she done…? Women had been beheaded for adultery and yes she and the King were not yet married, but a betrothal was essentially the same. What could a man expect from a woman that betrayed without provocation on the night before their wedding? It disgusted him and yet- When Gwaine had come to him told him of the collection being taken up by the staff, that he'd planned to meet her just outside the walls of the lower town Elyan had found himself giving Gwaine his first true knife and money and telling him to tell his sister that he loved her.  
  
        She could have been beheaded-  
  
        -She could have been beheaded and here he was cleaning her little home, making it tidy as if she might walk through that door, as if she weren't out somewhere in the world beyond the safe walls of Camelot. Furious, Elyan took out his rage out on her floors and begged God to keep his sister safe._**  
  
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        Guinevere stared at river flowing rough and choppy, well beyond its banks. How had not planned for this? Rain for days and spring melt meant rivers overflowing their banks, meant floods, meant bridges underwater or washed away all together. The bridge of course was built at the narrowest part of river which was also the deepest. Flooding had pushed the murky, silty water up over the bridge and well onto the road. One could not look at river and even believe such a thing as a bridge existed.  
  
        "What-" she felt the rise of despair and fought it.  
  
         A large man that reminded Guinevere of her Uncle John clucked his tongue.  
  
        "Well this is no surprise."  
  
        "Hmmm?"  
  
        "This river overflows every spring."  
  
         "Oh."  
  
       "Though I don't think it's ever been this bad."  
  
       "I have to cross it."  
  
        "Well there's a town a few miles back you might be able to get someone with a boat to take you across."  
  
         She said nothing.  
  
        "You could try to ford the river or caulk your wagon and float across."  
  
        Still she was silent.  
  
        "Well I'm going back. If you decide to ford which would certainly be the safest option the river widens out about three day's walk west." The man turned and began walking back the way they'd come.  
  
         Guinevere considered her situation. The river was choppy and moving fast. She was a good swimmer, but the current looked dangerous and her food and other supplies would be ruined by a soaking. She looked west into the woods at the tall wide trunks of the trees; a bridal convoy could pass through easily. Fording certainly seemed the safest. With a resigned sigh she turned off the convenient roman road and headed west into the woods.  
  
         She only learned the true weight of her cart as she made her way through the woods. On the smooth road it had flowed along with ease. On an uneven forest floor where roots and stones may be over looked, where the ground dipped, rose and seemed to fight the cart's progress Guinevere found herself truly working to keep her things with her, work that left her aching and sore and tired on the second morning and feeling quite alone.  
  
        There were birds, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, cats, foxes, deer, and so many other creatures running the woods and all coming to the river to drink. There were wildflowers in so many precious colors, bees, dragonflies, butterflies and frogs, lizards, the occasional snake all making their own sounds, croaking ,chirping, thumping, howling and singing a whole forest full of lovely, sweet life. By the second day of this walk along the river for Guinevere it may well have been deadly silent for it was lonely. The animals all seemed to live in groups and families, talk to each other in their own languages keep distant from her and her cart. Even as public opinion had started to turn against her she had still encountered friendly strangers who either didn't know what she had done or didn't care. She could share news, hear gossip and stories, trade jokes, but now-  
  
        -now with no distractions her mind roamed into places she did not want to go. She found her thoughts winding back to Camelot and her friends. Had Janet's guardsmen ever proposed? What of Enid? Enid had turned her back on her, but then given her a gift. She thought about Merlin and Elyan; wondered if things might have been different if she'd made more time for her brother. She thought of- Guinevere told herself not to think about it, to look for medicinal herbs, edible berries to watch the animals that peopled the forest.  
  
        She stopped and unbuckled her cape. For the first time in many days the sun shone bright and clear and as it drew towards it zenith Guinevere felt a sweat break-out on her skin. She stood for a moment and let the breeze flow over her before discarding her cape completely. This was her third day walking west, the river certainly seemed widest her. She picked up a small branch and tossed it into the current and watched it meander downstream. Gwen decided to try crossing here.  
  
       Guinevere unpacked the cart and studied the contents. She used putty to block up a few cracks and holes and then began putting everything back. The swords, being least likely to be damaged by a little water went first, next her cooking utensils, comb, clothing, her limited supply of cosmetics and toiletries and finally food. Most of the food was dried. She put some aside to go into her satchel and rest she wrapped in oiled cloth and placed on the top. Over it all blanket that served as her tent. She secured the load with rope and turned to what remained. In a smaller oiled cloth she wrapped the letters of recommendation and tucked them into the satchel, with that went some of her food, the simple jewelry her father had made for her mother, the pendant she'd gotten from Gwaine and her money. With everything packed to her satisfaction Guinevere put on her cape and secured the satchel to her chest well above where she expected the water to be and steered her cart into the river.  
  
        The water churned swiftly about her legs, she had grown used to the chill and her flesh no longer shrunk from it. The cart was gaining water and so gaining weight, Guinevere ignored this. She was nearly halfway across and once on the southern bank this little detour on her journey would be over. For all that she did not want to leave Camelot; reaching Ealdor would be no little relief.  
  
        The young woman tugged the cart handle as her momentum halted for the second time. If she had considered the difficulty of tugging the cart across and uneven and rocky riverbed she would have taken her chances trying to float across. Too late for that though she was committed now. The cart caught again on some unseen underwater obstacle and Guinevere pulled hard in frustration. Whatever it was the blocked her progress now seemed more solidly lodged than previous obstacles and Gwen dug her heels in pulling with all the strength of her young body.  
  
        Once when Guinevere was still quite young she and Elyan had been playing, chasing one and other through town. She had run into the back of some shop -Elyan hard on her heels- and pulled the door shut. He had grabbed the doorknob and pulled hard. Guinevere of course being older and stronger held the door easily, but she let him pull and pull, felt him digging in with all his might and she waited. Waited while the tension gathered, waited until she could feel his resistance in every line of her body…And in the exact moment that she released her hold on the doorknob she knew. Knew that the tension she had let build was too much, the momentum too strong, knew that her brother would be thrown down hard. Guinevere shot through the door as her brother tumbled backwards, knocking his head on a stone.  
  
            In the instant before the cart lunged forward, knocking her legs out from beneath her, shoving her below the river's surface and sending her tumbling into the current she knew. She knew it just long enough to take breath as ice water closed over her head.  
  
            The current was fast and muddy and thick with things stolen by the spring swell. Branches, bushes, animals caught unawares and drowned, all of them in the same trap. Guinevere paid them no heed. She saw the cart downriver the current taking it further west. Gwen knew she should probably make for the other side, give up on the cart, but the remnants of her past were in that cart as well as the foundations o f her future. Smart or foolish she dove into the current.  
  
            Guinevere ignored the chill weight of her clothing and swam straight for her cart all the power of the current directly behind her. She reached the cart easily only to have it snatched away from her reaching hands as the water whipped her round a bend. She went under for a moment, swallowed a bit of water and kicked to the surface. The water was moving fast now. It flowed and dipped over hills that gently rolling, but descended with force and strength while in water. The current whipped her past a boulder and she had but a moment to brace herself as she smashed against a second outcropping of rock.  
Stars dancing before her eyes Guinevere rode down the river in a daze the chill of the water getting into her bones. When her mind cleared the sun was well past its zenith. The current seemed to soften then and instinctively Gwen struck for the southern bank. She cut through the deeper waters with ease and was soon in the shallows crawling and then stumbling up the muddy bank to collapse onto sun-warmed dry grass.  
  
            The cart was gone and with it the remnants of her life. The future she had planned to finance on selling the swords her father had left behind, the Kente cloth her great-grandmother had brought from her homeland -a gift from a now dead King-, her food, clothing supplies all gone. Could she even reach the boarder now? Dully Guinevere reached into the neck of her tunic and found Arthur's ring present on the leather thong she wore there. Elyan's knife was still securely belted to her waist.  
Relief seemed to flood her and the would-be-Queen sunk into it. Let weak fingers play along that simple circle of precious metal and for a moment she imagined none of that had happened. Remembered instead that summer afternoon when she and Arthur slipped away from the heat of the palace to take a break from their duties and dip their feet into the cooling waters of the river. Uther lay sick in the palace, there was work to do, but for a brief snatched moment they sat side-by-side ankles touching, hands finding each other to interlace for just a quiet moment. The world fell away and peace descended over them. The warmth of Arthur's hand, the heat of the summer sun, these things reached out to her from memory and warmed her for just a moment. But her mind could not settle in that moment-  
  
         -The satchel which held so much of importance, it was still with her, but the leather was soaked and stiff.  
  
         "Oh god please…"  
  
         With aching fingers and a sick stomach Guinevere fumbled the satchel open and dumped the contents. Her mother's jewelry remained unchanged and the coins as well. Her soggy ruined food she tossed aside, there was no point in fretting over that. The references though…Wet the paper resists her efforts to pull free and after a few false starts they come loose with a wet sucking sound. Fingers trembling Guinevere breaks the seal of wax already knowing what she will find. They are both the same the dark ink has run with the water into one long black blur.  
  
          The tears came down then, dreaded, hated they poured forth. Tears did not save her mother, nor her father, they did not call Elyan when she needed him most. When Uther would have burnt her at the stake tears did not sway him to mercy and now they did not keep her at Arthur's side. Drained of everything she could not resist them now, the tears flowed and the wail that had been building in her belly since she threw herself between Arthur and Lancelot clawed its way up and out.  
  
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          ** _Everyday Mared looked at the bracelet and everyday she thought about wearing it. But what did she need with such things as bracelets? It was lovely and every morning when her eyes fell upon it she studied it longer and thought of it more and more. Still she had no time for bracelets, bracelets were for noblewomen who had little work with their hands and would never be up their elbows in bread dough. In spite of that in the small hours of the morning and the late hours of the evening her eyes traced its flowing lines and one evening she slipped it over her wrist. The metal was warm against her skin and even though she knew she should take it off the older woman could not quite bring herself to remove it.  
  
         She slept almost the moment her head hit the pillow. A field somewhere outside of the walls of Camelot and when she looked down at her young hands she was not surprised to find another equally youthful brown hand holding hers.  
  
         "Linnet," Mared said the other girl's name and met her warm brown eyes.  
  
         "Yes?"  
  
           Linnet's smile was mischievous; Mared could feel the young woman's thumb making slow, gentle circles on the back of her hand. She watched the mischievous expression become warm and serious. Knew what Linnet intended but did not pull away. She gave into the other girl's kisses and softness. Let Linnet lay her down in the fields under the bright blue sky. Felt and gave pleasure at the hands and mouth of her friend that she could never have or give to a man. Later they lay staring up at the clouds talking of how they might run away to the circus or some such.  
  
        Mared woke in the morning to her husband and children whom she loved, but her mind was in her past._**


	4. The Bear,the Bird and the Bandit

**The Exile**

**-Guinevere Alone-**

**Chapter 4: The Bear, the Bird and the Bandit**

_This chapter is a little different from the others. Gwen's been having a hard time and I've decided to add a bit of humor, I hope it works._ **  
**

* * *

Shaking in every limb, Guinevere wanted to merely collapse where she stood. But it was early yet, and she would not sleep as well on the bare forest floor as she would on a bed of grass and leaves. In the fading evening light, she ripped tufts of grass from the ground and stripped leaves from bushes. As she did so, Gwen scanned the forest flint rocks and edible leaves. By the time full dark came she had bed several inches high, mint leaves to chew, flint, and lavender leaves. With her bed made, she crushed lavender and spread it round her bed. The strong scent would discourage most predators. She'd also made her bed at the base of a tree just in case she needed a quick escape. With her bedding arranged Guinevere got to work on a fire. After a short while she laid down to sleep in cheery orange light.

********

Bunnies were the cutest animals surely, Guinevere thought to herself as she watched two cottontails, no more than a month old, hop over each other. One thumped the other in the head, and her mouth quirked up a bit at that. She knew she should be on the move, making her way back to the road; she should be walking south getting out of Camelot. Gwen put another mint leaf in her mouth and watched the puffy white tails disappear into the forest.

"All right, Guinevere, time to start your day." She pushed herself to her feet and fell back against the tree she'd based her camp at- legs watery-weak, eyes closed against the world's spinning. Gwen slid down into her bed of grass and sat unmoving until the nausea in her stomach subsided. She cracked one eye open and saw thankfully that the world had stilled. Her limbs continued to tremble, though, and Gwen knew she wasn't going far just yet. The ordeal on the river had been more draining than she realized. Tomorrow she would go on the road, now Gwen shut her eyes and let herself drift off into sleep.

Hours later, she awoke, parched and made her way back to the river on shaking feet. Guinevere drank her fill of the chill spring water and headed back to her little camp. As she walked, Gwen spied a patch of strawberries she had somehow missed yesterday. She didn't have much of an appetite, but the would-be-Queen knew she needed to eat something. The young woman filled her cape with a feast of berries.

She woke late on the second day, feeling no more inclined to stir than she had on the first. Still, Gwen forced herself from her wilted bed and made her way back to the river for water, thinking. She really didn't know where she was, where she was going or what she might do when she got there and she'd lost just about everything. The lethargy she'd woken with on the previous morning seemed to have gotten stronger. Guinevere listened to blue jays sing and tried to braid her tangled, matted hair.

On the third day, she managed to throw a rock and kill one of those adorable bunnies that seemed to enjoy hanging about. It felt mean, but she was hungry. Quickly, she skinned, spitted the animal and set it above her fire to roast. While it roasted, she scraped the fat from the skin and set it to dry. The entrails, organs and such she buried several feet from her camp. When the rabbit was done roasting she ate it with several handfuls of berries. She should be on the move, but who would ever know she was here? Perhaps she could just stay here in the woods. Maybe she didn't have to choose.

Guinevere opened her eyes. Why did her foot hurt? She looked down and saw her foot in the mouth of a large brown bear with a torn ear. Without thinking, Guinevere screamed and kicked the bear with her free leg. The bear looked up in puzzlement. She screamed again and leapt to her feet.  _She absolutely had to get away!_  Thankful she'd placed her camp at the base of a tree Guinevere turned and shined up the tree's trunk until she was high, high in its branches and hopefully out of the bear's reach. The bear seemed to agree, as it didn't attempt to climb the tree, but sat back on its haunches and let out a roar. Metallic taste in her mouth body trembling with reaction the young woman stared at the bear and tried to think.

"Go away!"

The bear merely looked at her and then it stood up on its hind legs and leaned its bulk against the tree. She screamed as her perch began to sway. How could she make this bear go away?

A nest perched precariously in the branches above caught her eyes. Guinevere pulled herself up as carefully as she could and found several eggs in the nest. Before she could question the wisdom of her next action, she forced her thumb through the top of one egg, made a hole and sucked down the contents. Then she lobbed one of the eggs at the bear who caught it, and as she had done a moment earlier cracked and drained it. Perhaps it could get full on eggs. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Guinevere began throwing the eggs at the bear. The bear seemed to think this was a great trick for it stopped shaking the tree and began chasing the eggs, catching and eating them with relish. The she heard a sound she'd been dreading, the call of an angry crow. With trembling fingers, Gwen yanked her hood up and dipped her face toward her chest. Not a moment later pain lanced through her scalp as she felt the bird's claws closing into the fabric of her cape. Gwen closed one hand around a tree limb and tried to think. Her knife belt! She didn't think she could stab the crow, but she might be able to swing the belt and strike it with the hilt. Ignoring the pain in her head, the girl fumbled her belt off and swung it up over her head. Her first blow struck home and the startled bird released her and flew upwards shrieking with rage.

Fearing to do so, but knowing she had no choice, Guinevere raised her head and felt her mouth go dry. The crow -black beak gleaming- was coming at her in a dive. Somehow, she kept her face upturned and waited-

-She had to hit it the first time. There wouldn't be a second chance. The crown came into sharp clear focus, drew nearer-

-She swung out, her aim more true than she could have ever hoped. Guinevere never knew if she stunned the bird or worse, but it dropped suddenly falling with the weight of a stone right into the outstretched paws of the bear. The bear, of course, found this to be an even better bounty and Guinevere heard the sound of bones snapping as ursine jaws closed round the crow's neck. She hoped he would be satisfied with her unintended gift.

The bear devoured the crow in a few bites and just as suddenly as it seemed to have come; it lumbered off into the woods. Still sitting in the tree Guinevere pulled off her boot and checked her left foot there were only bruises- no blood. She sat a while in the tree and when the bear did not reappear, slid down to the ground. She looped the satchel across her body and took off at a brisk march, feeling more energetic than she had in days.

Rather than going toward the road, Guinevere made up her mind to head south for the next four days. That would bring her well out of Camelot; the forest would provide everything she needed. On the fifth morning she would head west until she found the road. From there Gwen decided she would find Ealdor or some other village. The moon rode full and white in the sky making it possible for her to travel well into the night. Still feeling the burst of energy from the morning's encounter Guinevere he did not make her camp until what must have been well past midnight.

The following morning the extra strength that had come to her seemed to be gone again. But she had a plan now and Guinevere forced herself to continue forward. She stopped at a more reasonable hour and got her camp laid by sundown. Perhaps tomorrow she would rest. In the morning, she woke to the sight of the bear with the torn ear sitting calmly beside her exhausted fire.

How long she'd been running for, Guinevere had no idea. The bear didn't seem to be following her; in fact it hadn't seemed particularly dangerous, but she didn't want to take any chances. She'd always been told not to feed bears. Did this one expect just that? She'd fed it once already. Could she still be in its territory? She'd just keep moving sooner or later she  _must_ leave it behind.

On the fourth morning Guinevere awoke to something far less pleasant than a bear. She opened her dark eyes and meet a pair of cold green ones staring down at her from the grinning face of a bearded man. Gwen reached instantly for her knife and her stomach twisted sickeningly as he waved Elyan's knife at her. He crouched at her side.

"You're a nice friendly girl, ain't ya?" She felt the sting of the blade pressed against her throat. "Ain't ya?"

"Yes," Gwen whispered it, as still as she'd ever been in life.

"Good, now you just lie there."

The man straddled her, dispelling any hopes that she'd had that he was simply a thief.

"You're pretty, too."

For some reason this statement made her angry.

"You just finish your business and get out of here." If he was going to rape her, he was going to rape her. She was not going to let him pretend that this was some sweet little fantasy. The man growled and punched her.

Perhaps it was supposed to quell her, frighten her, it didn't. Instead Guinevere felt rage well up from somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Rage for kissing Lancelot, rage for losing Arthur, rage for being turned away from Bayberry, rage for losing her home, rage for being attacked by bears and crows, for being abandoned by her brother. For every shit thing that was her life rage fired her fist into the bastard's face. He seemed to be stunned by her resistance. Guinevere shoved him off of her and got to her feet. He did too. He lunged at her and she didn't care. He was stronger than he looked, but she fought him anyway, flailing with fist and feet, biting if he got a hold of her. Somehow though, he got her down again and put a rough hand around her throat. That was when the bear came lumbering out of the woods with a roar. The man stared in shock. Gwen didn't. She punched him in the throat, rolled to her knees and shoved him straight toward the bear. Guinevere grabbed the satchel Gwaine had given her and took off for the boarder at run, never happier to leave Camelot.

Later, when she caught her breath- when she took a moment to rest, she'd bring her slender fingers to rest just below the pulse at her throat, looking for the comfort that laying a hand against Arthur's ring brought. That would be later and she'd find no comfort in that gesture.

The ring was gone.

* * *

This chapter finishes out part 1. Part two will have Gwen out of the woods, meeting new people and making new friends. It'll also be time to hear from the men as they struggle with the fall-out from the events in 4x9. Please remember to comment whether you liked the story or not.


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